


quod

by armethaumaturgy



Series: q-rious [4]
Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: Infi shifts, propping himself up more properly. The lack of a bullet digging into his skull tells him he had struck a chord.“He has you,” Esper states.





	quod

There is no worse taste than a glass of shitty whiskey, left out all night and undiluted. And unfortunately, Esper doesn’t give a single fuck as he downs it, throat ablaze and every single taste bud protesting.

And, as if on cue, as if he hadn’t been thinking his morning couldn’t be worse with the hangover and lingering pain, someone knocks on his door. Or, more accurately, pounds onto the flimsy wood.

More on autopilot than not, Esper grabs his handgun, checking the clip and turning the safety off. Pure agitation drives him, overpowering even the world slightly swaying and his head pounding as he stalks to the door and poises his gun at the hip.

A few more knocks — punches, both to the wood and his head — and then the person grasps the doorknob and twists, opening the door.

It’s obvious it takes them by surprise, because Esper has no problem kicking their legs out and dragging them inside.

“What the fuck do you want,” he practically snarls, locking the door for a good measure. When he turns to lock the gun at the other and take a proper look, his finger almost slips on the trigger. He clicks his tongue, face twisting into a grimace as the redhead on the floor turns over. “You… What the fuck do you want here?!”

“What a friendly welcome,” the redhead replies, but he does tense up when Esper cocks the gun. “Ugh, okay, jeez. I’m here to bring you back.”

“Not in a million years. I should shoot you full of holes like Swiss cheese.” And he wants to do just that, empty the whole mag and paint the hideous motel carpet red. It would be an improvement — both for the carpet and for himself.

“Just fucking listen to me, I don’t know why you just up and left, bu–”

_Bang_!

Esper takes a deep breath, reveling in the clarity the pain from recoil of such a sudden shot brings him. Smoke still rises from the muzzle as he exhales.

“Give me one fucking reason not to steady my aim,” he prompts, squaring up his shoulders in preparations for another shot. As much as he likes the burning spreading through him, he doesn’t need to actually hurt his arm.

Infi tears his eyes from the hole in the carpet next to himself, ears still ringing. He’s starting to think this had been a bad idea. This Esper seems incredibly unstable, and that’s by  _his_ standards. Coupled with the vendetta he seems to be adamantly holding, that’s a volatile combination.

“Sia misses you.”

Esper hesitates; for but a moment something flashes in his eyes, the gun moves, but then the hardened glare is returning, lips pressing into a tight line. “He can get another bodyguard,” he bites out.

“He wants  _you_.”

Infi shifts, propping himself up more properly. The lack of a bullet digging into his skull tells him he had struck a chord.

“He has you,” Esper states. “Now, I want you to pick up your sorry ass and leave.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“I know.” Esper bites at his lip, thinking back to all he knows about this infernal boy. His lips crack into a grin on their own accord and soon enough, he’s laughing, half-mad and full-volume. “Now— no.”

He shakes his head and steps forward, kneeling before Infi. Finally they’re on eye level. Esper’s eyes look at him with nothing but disdain. “Oh, I know who you are. I know soooo much about you, Infi Elsword Perfect Fucking Sieghart. I’ve had to listen to how you did shit, what fucking flavor of McFlurry you liked and other useless pieces of fuck trivia for three  _fucking_ years. I want to kill you, I want you to suffer, I want to knock your goddamn teeth out–”

Esper’s free hand winds back and then shoots out, and before Infi can register it, it connect to his jaw, forcing his head sideways. Pain blooms in the spot where Esper had hit him, but the other pulls away.

“You’re getting off easy. If I see your stupid mug one more time, I will kill you. Sia was a better leader than you ever could be, anyhow,” the tall man sits, and then he actually spits, right next to Infi’s hand.

“Wait–” Infi calls out, but Esper simply twists on his heel and marches out of the room, opening the door only to be met with Sia’s imposing figure in the doorway, blocking the exit.

“You!” Esper growls, clenching his hands into fists by his sides.

Sia glances from Esper’s face, features twisted into a vicious snarl, to Infi, still sitting on the floor and with an already-forming bruise on his cheek. But otherwise, he seems fine; even with the gunshot earlier, he’s not bleeding out all over. In fact, Sia spies the hole in the carpet, singed around the edges. So that’s where the bullet had ended up.

“Esper,” Sia breathes out. His expression is unreadable, but what else is new? “Come back with us.”

“No chance in hell,” Esper shoots back immediately. He tries the same trick, kicking out to buckle Sia’s legs. He’ll lock them in the room, that’d give him enough time to drive away before they could break the door, and–

He can’t get any further with his mental plan, because Sia lifts a foot and stomps onto Esper’s twisting his ankle painfully instead of falling. And he doesn’t let up, leaving Esper rooted to the spot.

“Fuck–!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sia tells him, proving his point by not taking out any of his weapons.

It only serves to make Esper’s blood boil. Too fucking late. “Well,  _I_  want to hurt  _you_.”

Esper grounds himself on both feet, gritting his teeth through the pain of Sia stomping more, and elbows him into the solar plexus.

Sia splutters for breath, leaning over with pain, and Esper uses the opportunity to grip his shoulders and switch places with him, shoving the taller man backwards into the room.

He fumbles with the key just long enough for Infi to get to the door, but he manages to lock it after a short power struggle that leaves the hinges creaking. The banging returns, Infi’s voice coming through, but Esper can’t hear what he’s saying through the pounding on his own heart in his ears. Probably pleas to be let out. Threats, maybe. He doesn’t care.

The panic reaches him belatedly, how easily they traced him and wondering what he’d have to do to get away. And with the panic comes nausea, swift and strong.

He doubles over, clutching his stomach as it empties itself onto the porch of the motel room, painting the faded stone with the remnants of whiskey and chocolate.

He ends up on his hands and knees, dry heaving and with tears in his eyes, gazing into a puddle of his own bile. Pathetic. That’s why he’d only been a replacement.

His gun weighs heavy in the pocket of his hoodie, fingers itching to go back inside and shoot the both of them. Why not, what’s stopping him? Sia would fight back, probably. He knows how to. And Esper refuses to believe Infi had been a head of a gang without knowing at least the basics.

He sits up, swallowing the lingering taste of bile clinging to the inside of his mouth and throat. Infi is still pounding at the door and saying something. Esper still can’t figure out what it is.

Impulsively, he kicks the door from this side, yelling, “Shut up already!”

The inside does indeed fall quiet, much to his surprise.

He sits there, shoulders heaving and stomach still twisted, but bit by bit, the sounds come back to him; the traffic on the main street, the crows overhead, the other loud tenants. As much as he loathes other people, he’s glad.

“Esper?” comes from the inside, Sia’s voice quieter and softer, He’d probably sat down by the door. Esper feels the urge to leave, to scream at him to keep quiet again, but he does neither. He feels tired all of a sudden, but the puddle of sick behind him might be the reason for that one. “Are you still there?”

Esper doesn’t answer, from simple pettiness or because his voice isn’t working, he doesn’t know.

“Why did you leave, Es?” Sia asks.

Esper would love to believe he genuinely cares, but… Nevertheless, he scoots over, resting by the door. It’s soothingly cool against his forehead. He tells himself it’s to escape the disgusting smell of his puke. He tells himself a lot of things.

“What does that matter?” Esper grits his teeth; his nails dig into his palms, almost, almost unconsciously. “You don’t need me anymore. Everything’s gonna go back to the ‘good old days’ that you missed so much. It must be nice to have your lover back. So you don’t need me anymore. So stop following me.” Esper takes a breath when he stops talking. He’d gone off the rails there, for a moment. He’s regretting it already, and Sia hadn’t even replied yet.

“Esper…”

That isn’t even a reply, at least not in his books. He can still remember how Sia’s lips felt on his, forceful, cold from the snow, but most importantly, full of passion. He had tasted of the overpriced mulled wine. Since that say, Esper actually started liking the flavor.

Despite the many more kisses later, Esper’s mind usually wanders to the first one. Cliche or not, it was special.

Then again,  _Sia_ is special.

“You can find a new bodyguard,” he chokes out, surprised to hear his own voice almost breaking. “But a bodyguard having a bodyguard?” He snorts humorlessly, staring off at the row of flats on the other side of the street, banged up and closed down. “That’s kinda stupid.”

“You’d be a guard to Infi, not me–”

“I refuse!”

“Do you really hate him that much? Why?”

If Esper didn’t know better, he’d say Sia sounds a little hurt. But why wouldn’t he, when he’s being so disdainful towards his dearest Infi. Esper’s jaw starts hurting from how hard he clenches his teeth.

“I don’t have an obligation to answer you,” he says finally, swallowing the biting voice at the back of his mind screaming, he ruined everything! There really wasn’t that much to ruin in the first place. “In fact, I don’t even have to stay here.”

“Then why do you?” Sia questions, softer.

Esper’s eyebrows lower, eyes trained to a scrap of paper floating in the breeze in one of the windows. “I really don’t know.”

“Will you open the door?”

“No.”

“Would you talk to me if I knocked it down?”

“…No.”

“Okay.”

Whether willing to admit it or not, Esper is grateful the other isn’t about to knock the door down yet. The barrier feels safe, and the fact that Sia can’t see him makes it even better. He must look like a mess. Probably as bad as the rented room, due for a makeover years ago.

“Esper… Why don’t you want to come back?”

“Why do you want me to?”

“Because I miss you,” Sia says, causing Esper’s nails to dig into his palms even further.

“Bullshit. You’ve got Infi back.”

“But I miss you even so. It’s not like Infi returning would make me stop caring about you.”

“Why not?” Esper bites out. He’s going crazy sitting here and having nothing to fiddle with. He fight the urge to pull out the gun again.

“Jesus, Es, is that what you thought, you–” Sia cuts himself off. Muffled whispers fill the room, too distorted and muffled for Esper to make out.

“Is this about the kiss at the penthouse?”

Esper freezes at the words, nails breaking skin and drawing blood. He springs up, breathing labored all of a sudden.

“Fuck you, Sia,” he hisses, “I’m leaving!”

Sia pounds at the door from the inside. “Wait!” he calls, sounding desperate and pleading, and Esper would be lying if he said it didn’t work, because he stops, whole body tense as a bowstring.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Sia continues. Esper doesn’t know if he knows he had stopped, or if he’s just shooting in the dark. Not literally, though Esper is sure he has a gun on hand, too. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t the one who initiated it.”

“What does it matter? What are you getting at with this?” Esper can feel himself get snappier and snappier, but he can’t help it. He still wants to pick himself up and leave.

“Of course it matters, we had a thing–”

“You fucked me on a table once, so what?” Esper cuts him off again, doing his best not to remember the scene, or how Sia looked between his legs, or the things he’d said. Tough luck.

“Well, it means something to me, and it sounds like it did to you too.”

“Yeah, sure,” Esper drawls, prolonging the words on purpose. “You called me by the wrong name, really gets me going.” His sarcasm is almost palpable.

“Esper–”

“Oh, now you remember my name, huh?”

“No, that’s not… listen, can you open the door? I want to speak to you face to face.”

Esper hesitates, staring at the door for a long, long while before mentally slapping himself and fitting the key into the lock.

Sia opens the door almost hesitantly. Esper stands there on the porch, wild hair, hangover and all, slumped and betraying his own greatness. And he doesn’t say a thing.

“Es,” Sia calls out, taking a step closer to the other, but he stops himself.

“Well, say whatever the fuck you wanted to say so I can leave,” Esper huffs back, making the way he hugs himself look like folding his arms.

Sia steels himself, suppresses a sigh, and steps forward. Esper tenses up when he gets into his personal space, but otherwise doesn’t more. Infi watches them from inside the room. He’d definitely been the more understanding of the two, but Sia can’t blame Esper.

Trust comes hard and heavy in their line of work and life, and having betrayed that, even unknowingly and unwillingly, he’s lucky the other isn’t holding the gun again. That could, of course, change at any moment, though.

So he doesn’t wait.

Sia leans down and when he’s close enough, towering above Esper, and presses their lips together.


End file.
